White Dog looked over at Steve grooming Oso with the same shedding comb that had sent YoYoMa into conniptions yesterday. "We are nothing if not a group of different personalities," she said.
Oso was draped across Steve's knees, sleeping, as Steve worked. The pile of discarded fur stuffed at Steve's side was almost as large as the Little Man it came from. Oso's coat, like our Quinn's was, has an undercoat that easily mats and a long flowing topcoat so Steve had to stop often to tease our by hand the knots that would have pulled and been painful if the comb had grabbed them. Oso shifted slightly and began to snore. He awakened briefly as Steve turned him from right to left and then when he was cradled so his chest and belly could be groomed. No crying. No drama. No fuss. At the end he lifted his head and sniffed the treat, and politely refused it to snuggle back against Steve's chest.
Puff came to me after watching her brother's spa treatment and indicated that she wanted some attention as well. Our Puff the Magical LOVES being brushed and will sit in bliss as long as you are willing to indulge her. At soon to be 16, Puff's furs have thinned considerably and she barely has an undercoat; that has not diminished her enjoyment of grooming. Using a softer brush I danced the bristles along her back; she arched in delight. I thoroughly went over her ruff as she tilted her head in every direction to accommodate a full 360 degrees of massage. I gently lifted her and gave her upper chest a few strokes and softly rubbed her nearly bald belly and inner legs. We had accumulated nearly half a brush of fur. "You are beautiful, Little One. Perfectly soft and smooth and sweet smelling." She sniffed the small clump of fur I had pulled from the brush and then curled up at my feet to enjoy her treat.
YoYoMa rushed to her side. "Are you OK?" he asked her. "Silly, of course I am." "It didn't hurt?" "No, I kind of like it!" He nuzzled her ear. "You are SO brave!"